Spin it Again, Man
by Kiko Kamia
Summary: Where did Spin come from? Why does he always wear those dorky headphones? Find out some of his story and how he joined the EBA. -Same universe as "Feel the Beat"- -Some mild language- (Edited & completed 1/10/12)


**Author's Note: **Okay, so I'm giving writing another go. It's been longer than forever, so try to stick with me. This is a loosely-related one-shot prequel to "Feel the Beat," but you don't need to read one with the other.

**Note 2:** This is a re-upload of what was originally going to be a multi-chapter story. I decided I didn't want to delve as far into Spin and the EBA's back-story here - so I gave this fic a conclusion and have more fun in "Feel the Beat." Besides, let's be honest ...I don't need ANOTHER in-progress fic floating around. ^_^"

Constructive criticism is always welcome, but flames will be used to heat my apartment. North Dakota is COLD! Now, on to the story...

* * *

**_...Three years ago..._**

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Neil Jefferson sat on his bed and watched the old record on his turntable. It spun around around around spinning without any concern for the events of the world surrounding it. It didn't know what had happened. But it didn't need to. It wouldn't change anything.

* * *

Neil's parents, a successful brain surgeon and a district attorney, had learned about his _unapproved_ hobby. Both of them thought that moonlighting as a DJ was a one-way ticket to a death by drive-by or _worse_ to becoming a disgrace to the family name.

"Now," Mr. Jefferson lectured as he smashed Neil's iPod with a cleaver ", you had best understand that we are doing this for your own benefit."

"We had better not hear about you pulling another stunt like this." Mrs. Jefferson hissed as she carried away a box of records to be thrown away. "As our only child, you have an obligation to do something worthwhile. You cannot, and will not, waste your time on something as frivolous as ... **_music_**."

* * *

Late that night, Neil packed his essentials and a wad of cash into his backpack. He grabbed his large headphones from their hiding place in an air vent and placed them around his neck. Silently, he slid open his bedroom window. Whispering his thanks for a ground-floor bedroom, he slipped out of the house and walked away without a single glance back.

* * *

As the jet started to taxi down the runway, Neil finally breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally getting out of Manhattan, and his parents' shadows. _LA's big enough that I can get a job and hide if my folks decide to try to find me._ As the wheels lifted off of the ground, all of Neil's anxieties faded. _Now I can finally do things **my** way._

* * *

Agent BA-5, J tapped his foot impatiently. "I shouldn't get stuck with these dumb assignments just because I'm the rookie." He huffed, slouched, and stuck his hands further into his pockets. "Seriously. So what if this kid ran away? Tons of kids do it all the time, but we only help when they call for it. What's the diff?"

"The _diff,_ boy, is that this kid is special." BA-1, Kahn, answered with an annoyed groan. "And he's only two years younger than you. Hardly a 'kid', to you."

J snorted and looked away. "_Whatever_. Why can't we sit in something other than these stupid, uncomfortable airport chairs?"

Chieftain, BA-2's eyes swept the arrivals board. "His flight just landed. We should move."

"Remember," Kahn stood and straightened his suit jacket ", we're supposed to do this by the book. We-..."

"Yeah, yeah. We've gone over the book a million times." J interrupted and started toward the exit, tie askew. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Neil's eyes swept the crowds around him nervously. No security guards had tried to nab him yet, so maybe he hadn't been found out. But. A group near the main exit caught his attention. Three guys dressed in black suits and shades stood by the doors, passing out flyers. _Feds?! Oh, **HELL**!_ Neil's stomach dropped as one of the suits approached him. _Should I run? Where? Food court? Bathroom? **WHERE?!**_

"Hey. Do you like music?" The man asked with a grin.

"Uh yeah. Sorta. It's okay." Neil blinked, and then narrowed his eyes. "Are you a cop or something?"He looked the guy over. _Nah, there's no way this guy is any sort of cop or fed_. This guy looked nothing like any of the agents his mother worked with on cases. The stranger was slightly taller than most people in the room, with reddish-blond hair swept into a small pompadour and yellow shades.

The guy's eyebrows shot up as he guffawed. "HAHAHA... Yeah right! OH! ...oh that's rich. Me?! A cop?" He wiped at his eyes. "No. I'm not a cop. Neither are they." He gestured to the other two men. "They look stuffy, but they're sorta cool. Honest."

"Yeah, sure. I bet they're cool as boiling water." Neil pursed his lips, still skeptical. "But why'd you ask if I like music? What kind of question is that?"

"Well it's a little complicated. Tell you what, why don't you come with us, and we'll try to explain." The guy gestured to the exit gave a corny thumbs-up.

Neil paused. "You're not cops?" The guy shook his head. "CIA? FBI? NSA? ...CSI?"

"_CSI?_" The guy tilted his shades down to get a better look at Neil and scoffed. "We're _so_ much smoother than that. We use the power of music to save the world from sinking into endless chaos and despair. And we want you to join us, Neil."

"...sign me up. Let's do it."


End file.
